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“What? Do I look as bad as I feel?” Caspian asked, lips twitching into a quick smile.
“We should take you to the office and get you cleaned up. I don’t suppose you have a hair dryer back there?”
“Does a blowtorch count?”
“If I recall correctly, they’re better for crème brûlée than drying the officiant,” I said.
Sammie, from across the room, said she would run over to the house and fetch one, as well as her makeup case. “I can fix Annie’s face if need be.”
“Are you an expert?” Caspian asked, sounding curious.
Sammie’s gaze drifted toward the ceiling for a second before she answered, almost as if she were trying to think of the right answer. “I used to do makeup and hair for weddings and special occasions.”
“You did?” I gaped at her. She’d never mentioned that. Not once in the eight or so months I’d known her.
“Another lifetime ago now,” Sammie said in a dismissive and slightly evasive tone. “But I kept my tool kit.”
“You’ll be soaked through if you go out in this,” Caspian said.
“It doesn’t matter. All I care about is that Annie feels beautiful for her special day.” Sammie didn’t wait for further discussion, grabbing an umbrella on her way out, and ran out into the rain.
“Come to the office,” I said to Caspian after she left. “Let’s see what we can do to get you dried off. I don’t suppose you have another suit hidden somewhere?”
“This is my only suit. Bought for the occasion.”
I frowned, surveying him. “All right. We’ll do what we can.”
In the office, I had him take off his jacket and took it out to the kitchen to drape it over a chair near the ovens.
“Pants too,” I said upon my return.
“Um, pants? You want me to strip down to my boxers?”
“You’ll have your shirt on.” I chuckled at the horrified expression on his face. “It’s just like wearing shorts.”
“Fine.” He sank into the chair behind his desk and took off his shoes and damp socks. “I do have an extra pair in here somewhere.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a rolled pair of dress socks. “Found them.”
“What do you have those in there for?”
He pushed his hair away from his face. “I’ve no idea.”
I had a feeling there was more to it than that but didn’t ask a follow-up question. It was more important that we get him ready to marry Annie and Atticus than allay my curiosity.
While he slipped out of his pants, I took his shoes and set them on the same chair I’d hung the jacket on. When I returned, he was standing with his pants over one arm.
I held out a hand. “Give them to me. I’ll hang them by the stove until the hair dryer comes.”
“The hair dryer’s for my pants?”
“And your hair,” I said. “We have to work quickly.”
He stepped forward but tripped on the edge of the rug and fell toward me. Instinctively, I held out my arms to catch him. He seemed to have the same instinct for survival, because he wrapped his arms around my waist. We stood like that for a moment, seemingly frozen. I peeked up into his eyes and drew in a shallow breath that caught the scent of his soap and spicy cologne. He did not look away, peering back at me without blinking. This close to him, specks of light gray appeared in his blue eyes. My gaze traveled downward, past his nicely shaped nose to his lips. They were not full or thin but somewhere in the middle. Whatever their attributes, they evoked thoughts I’d rather not be having. Yet here they came, traveling from my head to my heart.
What would it feel like to have them pressed against mine? Would kissing him be as I imagined? Maybe he would be a disappointment. He might be too aggressive or too passive. As much as I tried to convince myself otherwise, I wanted him. Not entirely a revelation at this point in time, yet true. I had a thing for my boss.
His grip tightened around me, pulling me to him. With my chest pressed against his, I could feel the pounding of a heart. Was it mine or his?
“Would it be a mistake?” he whispered.
